


One Tequila

by VCCV



Category: Glee
Genre: Dubious Morality, Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VCCV/pseuds/VCCV
Summary: First, he couldn't remember. Then, he didn't want to.





	1. One Tequila

**Author's Note:**

> Veh-heh-heh-ry loosely based on a prompt from Glee_angst_meme

It was a blur. A nauseating, confusing blur that made Puck want to vomit, then roll over and hide. He remembered shots of something…clear. Way too many shots. After that, it was just a puke-inducing line-up of various body parts and then blessed darkness.

His cocooned silence was disturbed by the buzz of his phone. Growling slightly, he considered not answering, but a look at caller ID changed his mind. 

He didn't know why Finn was contacting him after weeks of the silent treatment, but he wasn't about to let the opportunity at reconciliation slip through his fingers. Even if he did feel like shit.

"Yeah?" he mumbled.

"Puck?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he croaked.

"Are you…are you okay?" Finn's voice sounded weird, all high-pitched and wavery. 

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, my head's killing me, but other than that…" Puck cut himself off before he started rambling.

"Oh, right. The shots," Finn agreed.

Puck frowned. "How'd you know I had shots last night? You weren't there, were you?"

"No, man. I wasn't there," Finn said; regret colored his voice. "Um…Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"Do…do you…what do you remember about last night?"

"Not a whole lot, actually."

"So, you don't remember…hooking up with anyone?"

Puck snorted. "Well, I'm home now, and there's clearly no one else here. So, I'm guessing no hookup. Why?"

"Puck…are you…do you really like…guys?"

"What the fuck, Hudson?" Puck sat straight up in bed. 

"Oh, Christ," Finn said under his breath. Puck could practically see Finn running his hand through his hair. "Puck, I'm sending you an addy. You…when you see it, I need you to call me back, okay? Promise me you'll call me back?"

Puck frowned. Finn sounded really worried. "Yeah. Sure, Finn," Puck reassured him.

"Okay, I'm…I'm sending it now," Finn said reluctantly. 

"Yeah, thanks." Puck pulled the phone away to look at the screen.

"Puck!" Finn yelled.

Puck jerked the phone back up. "What?"

"Just…just call me," Finn trailed off.

"Okay, Finn," Puck agreed, puzzled at Finn's weirdness. "I'll call you." 

As he pulled the phone back away from his ear, he heard Finn whisper, "I really hope so." Shaking his head, Puck got painfully out of bed to boot up his computer. 

He twinged in some weird places. As he waited to sign in, he shifted in the chair uncomfortably. Once in his mail he clicked the link Finn had sent him.   
When the screen loaded, Puck froze. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped.

And he remembered last night.  
_____________________________________

Puck hung around in the corner of the living room, watching the insanity around him. Dante Jacobs, the guy who had invited him to the party, was actually hanging from the ceiling fan. Mark Reynolds was setting up a beer bong. And Danny Richards stood on top of a table shaking his ass to some Black Eyed Peas song.

Even given Puck's newfound curiosity in the male form, he found the wiggling ridiculous. He snorted and drained his beer.

"Hey." Puck turned and came face to face with the most ridiculously toned body he'd ever seen. It took him a moment to pull his eyes up to meet the other boy's.

"Uh, hey," he returned.

"My name's Brett." Brett stuck his hand out and Puck blinked stupidly for a second before taking the proffered hand.

"Puck." He could have sworn that Brett stroked the back of his hand with a finger.

"You go to school at Parkson?" Brett asked.

"McKinley," Puck corrected.

Brett smiled winningly. "Really?" Puck nodded and couldn't help but smile back. He quickly discovered that Brett was funny. He was smart. He was hot. And he really seemed interested in Puck. It was perfect.

Brett also seemed to know his way around the house. He found the locked den door and broke in almost effortlessly. He ushered Puck in and relocked the door. Puck glanced around at the high-end furniture before his eye lit on the fully stocked bar, and Brett standing behind it.

Brett grinned and pulled down two shot glasses. He waved a bottle of tequila, and Puck grinned back. An hour later, he wasn't grinning. But then, he wasn't focusing much either. What he was doing was leaning heavily against Brett and having a crisis of sexuality.

"So, you've never thought about fucking a guy?" Brett asked, filling Puck's shot glass again.

"I wouldn't say never," Puck tried to wiggle an eyebrow suggestively, but since he could hardly feel his face, he figured he hadn't succeeded. "I've been curious," he continued anyway. "Just not curious enough to fuck someone I know, and risk losing it all for something I may not even like."

"What kind of guy are you into?" Brett topped off Puck's glass with the last of the bottle.

"I don't really know." Puck frowned, considering the question carefully. "I thought I'd like someone like me: big, works out, plays football. But, the more I think about it…"

He shrugged. "There's this one guy, at my school. He's seriously one step away from having a vagina, you know?" Puck leaned back into Brett's shoulder to steady himself as they both chuckled. 

"But, there's just something about him. Like, I can't leave him alone. I pick on him all the time. Actually, I've always picked on him, but lately…" he shook his head. "Lately, it's like…it's different. It doesn't feel so mean anymore. And he talks to me, now. And I get really pissed off when someone else fucks with him. It's like…he's mine, you know?"

Brett nodded understandingly. "So, would you ever make a move on him?" he asked.

Puck shrugged and closed his eyes. "Probably not. I don't know the first thing about doing a guy," he said wryly. "I'd end up hurting him or something."

"What if you knew what to do?" Brett suggested. "What if you knew what it'd feel like?"

"You mean, like if I let someone fuck me so I'd know how to fuck Kur—er, him?" Puck caught his slip, but not in time.

"So, Kurt, is it?" Puck would have blushed if he'd had any blood not currently rushing through his ears. Brett took pity on him. "Yeah, that's what I meant. If you know what feels good, you can make him feel good."

"I guess so." Puck frowned. He wasn't quite sure why he suddenly felt nervous.

"Trust me, it works." Brett leaned down to whisper into Puck's ear. "It worked for me."

Puck could no more have prevented his instant hard on than he could have stood up and walked out the door. Good thing he didn't want to do either of those things. "You've…had it…done to you?"

Puck opened his eyes and searched Brett's face. "Oh, yeah." Brett smiled, bringing a finger up to gently tap Puck's bottom lip. "It's called bottoming, and it's really good." 

He pushed the tip of his finger into Puck's mouth. Brett's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "Wanna try?" He leaned in until Puck had to close his eyes again or go cross-eyed. "I promise, it'll be worth it." With that, he captured Puck's mouth with his own.

He slowly nibbled until Puck's lips parted, and then he sank deep into Puck's mouth. His tongue was everywhere: probing at Puck's teeth, slipping along his gum line, tangling with Puck's tongue in what was a seriously hot battle. 

Puck moaned a bit when Brett pulled away. Brett nuzzled his way down to the juncture of Puck's neck. "Let me fuck you, Puck," he whispered hoarsely, and then drove his teeth into Puck's flesh. 

"Fuck!" Puck whimpered.

Brett licked a strip up Puck's throat and ended with a nip to his chin. "Yes, please." He chuckled. "So, can I?" Puck nodded helplessly, his cock painfully pressing against the front of his jeans. "Oh, Puck," Brett whispered. "This is gonna be something you'll never forget."  
____________________________________

Puck couldn't take his horrified eyes off of the screen. It couldn't be true. It had to be a joke. Finn was just playing a joke. Or getting even. Or it was a drug-induced hallucination. But he knew that Finn would never stoop to this for a joke, or even for revenge. And he felt like day old shit, so he couldn't have been high.

That left only one reasonable answer. That was him on the screen, naked and writhing against another guy; him moaning loudly and gasping out his pleasure. That was him rolling to his knees, cock heavy and balls dangling between his spread legs.

That was him pushing back on Brett's slick fingers and begging for more; him, head hanging low and body quivering as Brett slowly pressed his condom-clad dick into Puck's ass.

Puck reached down and pressed the sore spots on his hips, noting on the screen how Brett's fingertips whitened as he held Puck's hips still. Puck shifted again and felt the twinge in his ass; a telltale pinch that most assuredly was caused by what looked to be the rough pounding of Brett's shiny, lubed cock into Puck's stretched hole.

Puck felt his hands begin to shake on the keypad as he listened to himself beg Brett to fuck him harder, deeper. Oh, sweet Lord, that was really him letting Brett slide his hand forward and jack him in counterpoint to Brett's thrusts, until the Puck on the screen moaned low and shuddered, coming all over his stomach and Brett's hand.

And it was, beyond a reasonable doubt, him falling to his face as he slid his hands around his ass to hold himself wide open for Brett. Brett's face pinched into a silent scream, and he pulled out of Puck, fumbling with the condom. Tearing it off, he jacked himself a couple of times and then his whole body stiffened as he painted Puck's ass with spurt after spurt of evidential shame.

Brett collapsed forward, driving Puck flat to the ground. As they both tried to regain their breath, Brett turned his head and looked directly into the camera, giving a wicked smirk. "That's a wrap," he said. And the screen went dark.

A menu popped up a moment later asking if Puck would like to see the clip again. Shell-shocked, he pushed the screen closed and lifted his legs up into the chair, clenching his knees to his chest. His head dropped to rest on his kneecaps, and he began to shake. What the fuck had he done?

Puck didn't know how long he sat there, huddled into a ball but by the time the buzz of his phone registered and he picked it up, he had eight missed calls. Hand trembling, he tried and missed, then tried again to answer it.

"Puck? Puck! You there? Puck, answer me, man. Puck?" Puck stared dazedly at the screen showing Finn's smiling face before he slowly pulled the phone up to his ear.

"Finn?" he whispered.

"Oh, Jesus! Thank God! I tried calling again and again, man. But you wouldn't answer." Words fell from Finn's mouth. Words that Puck didn't really understand.

"Finn?" he asked again, hating how his voice wavered.

"Yeah. Yeah, Puck, it's me," Finn said soothingly. "You okay, man?"

Puck made a choking sound, one he was embarrassed to say sounded suspiciously like a sob. "Where…where'd you get that link?" he managed after a moment.

"Fuck, man. It's all over the net," Finn answered regretfully. "Matt and Mike both sent it to me. Matt said some asshole from Parkson sent it to him. Mike warned me that he got it from half the football team."

"Oh," Puck said raggedly. It was all he could generate.

"I just—hang on…oh, shit," Finn heaved a sigh into the phone. "Rachel just IM'd me. Someone sent it to her, too. She says…Christ, she says from the CCd list on the message, she's pretty sure everyone in McKinley got it."

"Oh," Puck said again, his mind spinning in circles. "I…I gotta go, Finn," he choked out. "Th-thanks for letting me know. You didn't have to do that, and I appreciate it."

"Puck? Puck, don't hang u—" Puck hit the end button, cutting Finn off mid word. He carefully set his phone down on top of the traitorous laptop and curled back up into a ball. 

Then he closed his eyes and tried very, very hard not to cry.


	2. Two Tequila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's alone, and then he's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puck's little sister uses a slur

He knew he was worrying his family. He was usually the first one in the kitchen, even on a Saturday. Like a dog begging for scraps, he'd watch Ma make breakfast. She always let him start eating before Sarah came downstairs. Ma had a thing about serving cold food, and Puck was more than willing to buy into her OCD.

But today, he stayed in his room. Ma called to him that breakfast was almost ready. He hid under the covers. She sent Sarah in to check on him. He couldn't even look at his little sister. Ma finally came down the hall herself, but Puck only grunted, "I'm not hungry," and rolled over to face the closet. Any further attempts coax him out of his room Saturday met with increasingly frustrated sighs.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that video again. Each repeat performance let him see something new. He watched Brett pour the bulk of his own shots back into the bottle, while Puck drank like a fish and rambled on about being misunderstood. He watched Brett place him so the camera had a better shot. He watched Brett watching the camera; performing to the audience who would later see this.

Drunk, Puck hadn't had a thought beyond 'good yes more'. Sober, Puck could see what a moron he was, what a slut. He struggled with what humiliated him the most: being ass-fucked on camera, or admitting his feelings about Kurt. 

Either way, he knew what insignificant thread of dignity or tattered shred of reputation he'd had left was gone. And he knew he didn't have anyone to blame but himself.  
__________________________________________________

His phone buzzed again and he groaned. Even had he wanted to sleep these last 24 hours, he wouldn't have been able to. He groped on the bed next to him where he'd thrown the offending object after the 18th text from Finn. He lifted his arm from his eyes just enough to see the screen. New message. No new content. 

_Man, answer your phone. Please. Talk to me._

Puck turned the phone off and chucked it onto the nightstand. Finn had filled Puck's voicemail with the same kind of messages. The sad thing was, Puck really wanted to answer. He wanted to talk; to unload on someone. Finn would have been the perfect person if Puck hadn't lied to him and knocked up his girlfriend. That kind of threw the vibe off.

So, instead of confronting this head on, or working it out with a friend's help, he cowered here in his bedroom. Alone. He listened to voicemails and read texts that pleaded with him to accept help, and he tried to pretend that he didn't need anyone; that the mere sight of his laptop didn't make him nauseous. 

All he'd managed so far was to put the nightmare on repeat in his brain, and with every cycle, he grew more ashamed. What the hell had he done? Whored himself out for a bottle of cheap tequila, that's what. Ran his big fucking mouth about his disturbing obsession with Kurt. Humiliated himself, his family, anyone who was stupid enough to call him a friend.

He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. This was just too huge. He considered packing a bag and running, but the last thing in the world he wanted was to have anything in common with his father. Though, in the end, his mother would probably disown him anyway.

And he couldn't just walk out on his sister. They fought like cats and dogs, but he loved the pain in the ass. Sarah had potential. She was smart; she was pretty; she didn't take shit from anyone. She wouldn't throw her life down the toilet like Puck. And he had to be here to make sure of that.

He drew in a shuddering breath, curled into a ball and once again tried to fight off tears.   
_________________________________________ 

Puck heard raised voices from the living room, but didn't move. He couldn’t dig himself out of his pit of misery long enough to care that his mom and Sarah were fighting. The sounds escalated as they came down the hallway. Puck looked up blearily when first his bedroom door flew open to admit Sarah, and then slammed shut in his mom’s face. Sarah turned the lock with vicious satisfaction.

"Sarah? Did you just lock me out?" his mother’s indignant voice floated through the door.

"Yeah, Ma. I did. Gimme some space already!" Sarah snapped back. She waited until the muttering and footsteps faded back down the hall, then she turned to face Puck. Her hands were on her hips in a disturbing imitation of the woman she'd just locked out. 

Sarah flung her dark hair over her shoulder and stepped up to the foot of Puck’s bed. As she moved closer, Puck saw the fading red of a handprint across her face. Fury, the only emotion besides humiliation and misery that he'd had in the last day and a half, flooded through him. He sat up, his anger warring with concern. "Did Ma hit you?" he demanded.

Sarah snorted. "As if. No, Melina got a shot in. But she quit swinging after I punched her in the eye." She beamed proudly and Puck rolled his eyes, the first smile in two days ghosting over his lips. No one could ever say Sarah wasn't a Puckerman. 

"So, why are you and Melina taking potshots at each other?"

Sarah plopped herself on the end of the bed and Puck couldn't resist tugging at one of her curls. He'd done it since she was a toddler and it never failed to get a reaction out of her. Usually, she went ballistic on him. Today, she just scooted to face him with her brows knit and her jaw set.

"Melina said some things I didn't like."

Puck brushed that curl off of her shoulder. "Sometimes, Sarry, we have to hear things we don't wa—"

"It was about you." Sarah cut him off.

Puck frowned. "Me?"

Sarah's gaze turned piercing. "Melina showed me a link that one of her friends sent her."

Puck let his hand fall back to his lap so Sarah wouldn't feel it start to shake. "Oh?" he asked weakly, his eyes darting away.

"Yeah. She couldn't wait to show me. Apparently, she thought I'd find it funny." 

Puck's hands clenched in his lap and his eyes fell closed. He felt like the bottom dropped out of his stomach. "Sarah, I—"

"I didn't find it funny," she interrupted. "I found it sick and wrong."

Puck flinched as though she'd struck him. His head lowered and he swallowed heavily. Then, a hand pried his fist open and cool fingers linked with his. Confused, he opened his eyes. He looked down at Sarah's small hand practically engulfed by his larger one. His eyes moved slowly up and he looked warily into her angry face.

"What kind of a lowlife scum do you have to be to get your rocks off on taking advantage of someone like that?" she demanded. "'Hey, I'm an asshole! I think I'll feed someone a bottle of tequila and rape them on camera!'" She curled her lip in disgust.

Puck sucked in a shaky breath. He so wanted to take the out she'd just handed him; to pretend that he wasn't at any fault. But he couldn't. Maybe it was because he was so tired of pretending to be someone he wasn't. Maybe he didn't want to deceive anyone like he'd been deceived. Maybe he just couldn't lie to his sister. He didn't know.

"He didn't rape me, Sarry," he whispered, unable to meet her eyes again. 

"Bullshit!" she snapped. "He totally went into that room armed with a plan and a bottle of booze. He clearly knew you wouldn't fuck him without it." Puck's eyes widened, both at her language and because little Sarry apparently wasn't so little anymore.

She wasn't quite done, either. "He played it up the whole time, winking at the camera like some kind of porn star. He's a complete douche, and he needs to have his ass kicked!" Her nostrils flared and her cheeks flushed, anger emanating from every pore in her body.

"I'm not big enough to make him hurt, but when Melina showed me that video? I _knew_ I could kick that bitch's ass! So, I punched her in the face. A lot." She bared her teeth fiercely, looking extremely proud of herself.

Not for the first time that day, or even that hour, Puck felt tears burning his eyes. He felt a rush of love for his little sister. She hadn't questioned. She hadn't taken the easy way out. She'd just defended her brother in true Puckerman fashion.

"Sarry, I…I don't know what to say," he said, hoarsely. 

Sarah snorted again. "You don't have to say anything, Noah."

"But, you stood up for me, after seeing something I know embarrassed you." He searched her eyes and only found indignant anger on his behalf. "Thank you, Sarry. I…I don't deserve you." He squeezed her hand and, to his mortification, felt wetness trail down his cheek. Sarah reached up with her free hand and wiped it away. Then she balled up her fist and punched him in the chest. 

"You're such a dumbass." She rolled her eyes, and bizarrely, in that moment, everything didn't look quite as hopeless. She was right. He was a dumbass. It happened. Everyone knew. Laying here in the dark, bemoaning his fate wasn't going to change anything. He'd have to face the world sometime. Now, at least, he knew he had one person in his corner. 

"Bitch." He smirked and shouldered her, nearly knocking her off of the bed. She squealed and flailed and he pulled her back up by their linked hands. They sat quietly for long minutes, just taking comfort in one another.

"So, Ma's having a shitfit," she announced, breaking the silence and pulling her legs up to cross them.

"Yeah, well you just got in a brawl with your best friend," Puck pointed out. "That may be normal behavior for me, not so much for you."

Sarah huffed a sigh. "You're such a fucktard. She's not having a shitfit about that…" She paused and scrunched her forehead in thought. "Okay, so she's kinda having a shitfit about that," she conceded. "But, she's having an even bigger shitfit cause all your friends keep calling the house instead of your cell."

Puck shrugged. "I turned the phone off after ignoring Finn's six hours worth of voice mail and texting. I guess I should call him back, huh?" 

"Well, that'll take care of one of them."

Puck frowned. "Who else would be calling?" He hoped like hell that someone hadn't gotten the bright idea of calling Puck's mom and telling her about her son's starring role. Or that the team hadn't decided to prank call him.

Sarah closed one eye and looked critically at her nails. "Everyone, I think," she said absently. "Should I stick with yellow or move on to silver?" She waved her hand under Puck's nose.

"Go with the silver. You look like some old grandma that's been chain smoking for 50 years with the yellow. Everyone who?"

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him. "Yellow happens to be a cheerful color. And, everyone. I don't know. Finn, yeah. And some guy named Artie. I think Mike called, too. Maybe Matt. Or that was just Mike calling while he was eating again. Oh, and a fuck ton of girls."

"You have a filthier mouth than I do, little girl," Puck admonished. Sarah flipped him off. "Yellow may be cheerful, but whatever you have on your nails now looks like pasty piss." Sarah punched him again. "Just how many is a fuck ton?"

"Asshole," she groused. "I dunno. A bunch. There was a Rachel. Some chick named Porsche?" She looked questioningly at him. 

"Mercedes?" he asked, stunned.

"Yeah, whatever. And Quinn. And that Latina bitch you were dating for a while, Satan something-or-other." She shrugged. "I think that blonde barnacle of hers called, too."

"Her name is Santana. And don't call Brittany a barnacle," he chastised, plucking up Sarah's hand and eyeing it as well.

Why the hell was the whole goddamn Glee club calling him? His throat tightened. They'd seen it. Obviously. Apparently everyone had seen it. They probably wanted to kick him off of Glee en masse. And the jocks would make sure he was off of football. They'd drown him in slushes and he'd spend every fucking morning in the dumpster right next to….

He hadn't heard Kurt's name in the list Sarah rattled off. He wanted to ignore it. Really, what the hell did it matter? The poor kid was probably traumatized at knowing Puck got his fudge packed so he'd know what it would feel like for the bottom. But he couldn't help himself.

"Did anyone else call?" he asked surreptitiously, picking at some flaking yellow polish on Sarah's left pinky.

He heard her snort and looked up in time to see her roll her eyes. "You mean, did Kurt call?"

"What?" he asked, projecting confusion. "Why would I care about that?" Sarah pursed her lips and just stared at him. He lasted maybe 15 seconds before his head dropped and he shrugged. "Yeah. So, did he?" He peered up at her again.

The expression on her face answered him even before she shook her head. That was the look Ma had when Puck had asked 'is Santa real?' 'Can we get a pool like the Harrismans?' 'Is Daddy coming back?'

He nodded. "Whatever. I'd be totally shocked if he had. It had to have been…pretty creepy." He tried to toss a chuckle out on the end of that statement, but it stuck somewhere in his throat. The sound that came out was sickeningly like a sob.

Sarah reached out to clutch fiercely around his shoulders. "Oh, Noah," she whispered into his shirt. 

He shook his head and his bravado finally showed up. "No. No, it's okay. You know what? Fuck him. Fuck Kurt Hummel."

Sarah turned her head hesitantly, her nose nestled in-between his shoulder and neck and said, "Isn't that what caused this whole mess in the first place? Wanting to fuck Kurt Hummel?" Puck felt her tensing against him. She held her breath and he felt the butterfly kiss of her lashes against his neck as she closed her eyes. He knew she was waiting for the explosion. Either of tears or violence. And, he had to admit, for a moment he actually wanted to.

But, she wasn't wrong. And that…was strangely fucking hilarious.

He smiled wryly. That turned into a chuckle. When Sarah felt his chest move with his laughter, she sat up and smiled warily at him. His chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. After a moment, Sarah joined him and, before long, they were rolling around on the bed, convulsing with laughter.

"Bitch," he gasped, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "I was doing just fine moping here all emo-like."

"Yeah, well," she grinned up at him. "I was about to ask if you needed one of my tampons." He quirked a brow. Then, he attacked, hitting every one of her ticklish spots with dangerous precision. She was shrieking in laughter when their mother pounded on the door.

"I don't know what you're doing in there, but you'd better not have broken anything!" Puck and Sarah paused, looking at the door, then at one another, and they burst into laughter again. "Fine! Fine, just keep on laughing. Keep making your poor mother worry. One day, you'll have children of your own. Then, you'll understand the true patience that the good Lord gave me! You'll be back at my door, begging for forgiveness…"

"Oh my God," Sarah rolled her eyes. "Ma! We're fine. Both of us."

"No, no. It's all right," their mother called. "I understand. Secrets. Always with the secrets! Telling everyone but your poor mother. What's a good mother to do with two children like you?"

"Prep us for years of therapy?" Sarah muttered. Puck buried his face in the pillow to muffle his laughter.

"Whatever. Whatever! Noah, you have company. Get up out of that bed and greet your guests properly." She walked down the hall, exclaiming her great capacity for patience and how her children tried it so.

Puck frowned and looked warily at the door. "Who'd come here?" he asked.

"Who'd come—Jesus Christ, Noah. Maybe you are stupid!" Sarah punched him once more on the hip as she rolled out of the bed. "I don't know. Could be the 10 people who've been calling you all freaking morning!" She straightened her clothes and fluffed her hair.

"I'll be in my room if you need me." She narrowed her eyes. "Seriously, Noah. If it gets too heavy, or someone starts in on you, you just call me. I may not be able to kick any of their asses, but I can sure fuck up their shins. _And_ , they won't know what hit them when I go get Ma."

Puck heaved himself up off the bed. He took a step towards her, but hesitated. Sarah gave him her 'bitch, please' face, and huffed before flinging herself into his arms. He buried his face in her soft, sweet smelling hair. This whole debacle may have cost him everything else that he dearly loved, but Ma must be right when she said that God never shut a door without opening a window. He'd gotten Sarah back in a way he hadn't experienced since she'd started kindergarten; when she realized that there were more friends out there than just her big brother.

He released her and she walked to the door and unlocked it. A brief smile, and she disappeared across the hall into her own sanctuary. Puck cracked his neck, took a deep breath and stepped out of his haven to meet the storm head on.


	3. Three Tequila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought he had no one. He was wrong.

Puck heard him long before he saw him; that desperate tone his voice took on whenever he lied to Puck's mom. Puck hesitated just outside the kitchen door and leaned against the doorframe. He closed his eyes and wished life were still as simple as figuring out how to lie to his mom about how the kitchen window had broken. 

"Please, Mrs. P." Finn's voice came through the door, jolting Puck out of his reverie. "No! No, th-there's nothing wrong. Really. Why are you…er, really. Nothing wrong." Finn gave that horrible heh heh laugh that might as well have been a written confession of guilt. 

"Puck just…he just had a bad day Friday. At school. Where we were. Together. Not that I had anything to do with him locking himself in his room and not answering the phone. Cause I didn't." Puck took pity on him and pushed the kitchen door open. Finn's eyes shot to him like magnets, the look of relief on his face was nearly cartoonish. 

"Puck! You're okay!" His eyes widened and he glanced nervously back at Mrs. Puckerman. "I mean…of _course_ you're okay!" He continued as though he thought that the louder he got, the more believable he sounded. "Cause…cause there's nothing not to be okay about, right? Heh heh." Puck shook his head. 

"I got it, Ma," he said quietly. "We're going to my room. Everything's fine." Mrs. Puckerman narrowed her eyes and studied Puck carefully. She glanced at Finn, who bobbed his head and responded with 'heh heh' again. 

She rolled her eyes heavenward and threw her hands up in the air. "Fine! Fine, keep your secrets. But you know this…" She pointed a finger at Finn and he let out a terrified little squeak, staring at her finger as if it were a loaded gun. "If I find out, you'll be wishing you'd have told me yourself, Finn Hudson." 

Finn swallowed noisily and nodded. Mrs. Puckerman tossed her hands in the air again and left the kitchen muttering under her breath. Finn watched her go with huge eyes. "Jesus," he breathed. "How do you _do_ that?" 

Puck gave a faint smirk and pushed the kitchen door open. "C'mon," he said. Finn followed him to his room. From across the hall, Sarah's door opened and she poked her dark head out. Finn smiled and held a hand up in greeting, but Sarah just raised an eyebrow and stared silently. 

Finn scuttled into Puck's room, nearly treading on Puck's heels in his hurry. As Puck shut the door behind them, Finn sighed. "Don't get me wrong, man. I think your family is awesome. But you gotta admit; those are two scary ladies." 

Puck dropped onto his bed, kicking a pillow out of the way so that Finn could take a seat, too. They stared at random objects in the room with varied intensity for long minutes. Then, Finn cleared his throat and turned to look at Puck.

"How're you holding up, bro?"

Puck shrugged slightly. "Doing okay," he returned. They returned to silence. Puck sighed. "Go ahead," he said. "Ask." 

Finn watched Puck carefully. "Okay," he said, slowly. "Are you serious about Kurt?" Puck's head shot around to stare incredulously at Finn. 

"Kurt? You watched me get fucked by a guy, and you want to know about Kurt?" His jaw worked around a few half started sentences, then he gave up and just stared wide-eyed at Finn. 

"Yeah, I want to know about Kurt," Finn retorted defensively. "He's not going to be able to handle it if you're just leading him on."

"Leading him…what the fuck, Hudson?" A wild look appeared in Puck's eyes. "After what you saw, the one thing that stood out was Kurt fucking Hummel? Nothing about the gay thing?"

Finn's cheeks flushed. "No."

Puck searched Finn's face for signs that he was lying. "You can't tell me that wasn't weird for you. That you haven't spent the last 24 hours wondering how many times I stared at your ass in the locker room."

"Actually, I haven't," Finn retorted. "I've spent the last 24 hours wondering why my best friend won't talk to me. I've spent the last 24 hours scared shitless that you'd try to hurt yourself. Or run away. Or drive your fucking truck into that Brett dude's house!" Puck's chin tilted up, and his jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

"I'm not gonna tell you it wasn't weird seeing you like that," Finn continued, waving his hand in Puck's general direction. "It was. You know that. But does it freak me out that you're gay? No, it doesn't. Because I. Don't. Care. None of us do." 

Puck squeezed his eyes shut. "Who…who all knows?" Puck's voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, but Finn acted as though he hadn't heard it.

"Aw, man." He shook his head. "Everyone, I think."

Puck hung his head. "Any parents know yet?"

"I don't think so," Finn frowned. "I don't think most kids are gonna show their parents. And the message said not to save it to your hard drive."

"Score one for the pervert, I guess." Puck smiled grimly.

"Stop it," Finn ordered. "You're not a pervert."

Puck rubbed at his face with both hands and slid them behind his head, pulling it down toward his knees. "I'm…I guess I'm just ashamed, Finn," he admitted to his kneecaps. "I'm the jock; the cougar-bait; the ladies man. And what I did…" He ground to a halt, sucking in a deep breath.

Finn put a supportive hand on Puck's shoulder. "It's okay," he said soothingly.

Puck sat up quickly, knocking Finn's hand off of his shoulder. "It's not!" he replied angrily. "It's completely _not_ okay. Do you have any idea what it feels like to…to know everyone you used to intimidate, everyone who looked up to you, every fucking person you've ever known has…has seen—" He paused and gulped a shuddering breath.

"Every one of them has seen you begging a guy to fuck you. Every one of them has watched you come. Every one of them has listened to you spout off about being in—" His words stumbled to a halt and Finn's hand crept back up on his shoulder.

"No, Puck. I don't know," Finn said quietly. "I don't know what it's like. I don't know how you feel. And, I gotta be honest; I really have no idea what to say, here." He squeezed Puck's shoulder. "I can't promise that no one will be a dick. This will probably be the worst time you've ever had. But, I _can_ promise that we're not gonna desert you."

Puck smiled sadly. "There's no one left to desert me, Finn. I drove everyone away already. I'm an asshole. I've proven that time and time again. This is just…I don't know. Fucking karma or something."

Finn sighed and stood up; Puck felt a twinge of sadness, but Finn only walked to Puck's window. "You never were the kind of guy who just took someone's word, were you? Everyone always has to prove it to you."

"Yeah, well, people lie," Puck returned. "I'm pretty sure I taught you that."

Finn nodded. "Yeah, you did. Now let me teach you something." Finn jerked Puck's curtains open and Puck squinted in the sudden light. Finn smiled widely. "Come here, Puck."

Puck raised an eyebrow, but Finn just gestured to the window again. Puck rolled off of the bed and dragged his feet to the window. "Okay. I'm here. What did you--?" He broke off as he took in the scene outside his window.

They stood chatting in small groups of two and three. Finn reached around Puck and knocked on the window to get their attention. Soon, the ten Gleeks standing on Noah Puckerman's lawn were waving wildly and grinning like loons.

"What…what are they doing here?" Puck choked out, carefully stepping back from the window. Finn held up a hand to the Gleeks, and watched Puck begin to twitch. His head kept shaking back and forth as though denying he'd seen them could make them go away 

"They're here cause they have your back, dumbass," Finn said softly.

Puck slashed his hand angrily through the air. "Stop it!" he snapped. "I have managed to piss off or hurt every one of those people out there. And you too. You've all refused to talk to me for weeks, not that I didn't deserve that, but fuck!" He ran a hand over his scalp. "Why now?"

"You're kind of a prick, Puck." Rachel's voice came softly from the doorway. Puck's head shot up to see a crowd piled three deep in his hallway. "But, you're ours." She smiled shyly. "No one messes with a Gleek."

Mercedes poked her head under Rachel's arm. "Move aside, white girl," she ordered, pushing her way into the room. Once in, she quickly surveyed Puck's domain with a discerning eye. She winced at the old rock band posters and dirty piles of clothes, but tried to ignore them.

"As much as it pains me to say," Mercedes eyed Rachel in her peripheral. "She's right. You done some pretty shitty things to us, Noah Puckerman. But, hating on you? That totally belongs to us." She flicked her hair off of her shoulder. 

"Ain't a single one of us that's normal. Ain't a single one of us that's better than anyone else." She pinned Puck with her narrowed gaze. "I'm thinking you understand that a little better today." Puck flushed, but never broke eye contact. "We've all suffered through haters, honey. 'Bout the only thing we got going for us…is us."

She stepped forward and held out her arms, toe tapping impatiently and lips pursed. "Get your bitch ass over here, homo explosion." She wiggled her fingers imperiously. "And let me officially welcome to Club Gleek."

Puck took one shaky step forward and then kind of fell into Mercedes' arms. She closed them around him and let him bury his face in her hair. The others filed quietly into the room. The girls wasted no time in getting in on the group hugging. Even Santana let Brittany drag her over and pin her between Brittany and Quinn.

Artie and Kurt hovered on the outskirts for only a moment, before Tina stepped aside and made room for Artie's chair, and Rachel hauled Kurt in next to her. The jocks stood self-consciously on the outside, slapping backs and grinning without getting close enough to be yanked in to the soppy mess.

Across the hall, the door creaked open and dark eyes peeked out. If the Gleeks hadn't been so caught up in the moment, they would have heard a satisfied 'hmph', and the door creaking closed again.  
_____________________________________________

"My dads say you should bring him up on criminal charges."

"You told your _dads_?"

"Of course, I told my dads. What's wrong with that?"

"Oh, my God."

"I say we can set him up just like he did with Puck."

"What makes you think he's going to care? His naked ass was on that video, too. He didn't seem to mind it so much."

"Oh. Yeah."

"How about we head over to Parkston and put the smack down on him? The four of u—"

"Ahem."

"Oh, er…and you too, Santana. We could kick some serious ass."

"In the middle of another school? You want to just walk in and start breaking heads? Oh, that won't end up with a trip to the hospital."

Puck hadn't had to say a word since the group hug. The Gleeks had piled in on his bed and sprawled out on the floor like heaps of puppies. They'd taken turns shooting off ideas and having them shot down. 

Puck watched in amazed silence as some of the people he'd hurt the worst in this world plotted revenge on his behalf. No one asked him why, or what he'd been thinking. No one even questioned him being gay. They just took in stride, what he was sure would throw his life into shambles. He was bewildered, humbled and grateful.

The only thing that bothered him was that Kurt hadn't spoken to him yet. He'd joined in the hug, but hadn't touched Puck directly, nor had he had a suggestion for revenge. He shared half of the desk chair with Brittany, and their two bright heads were burrowed together as they whispered to one another.

Briefly, Puck felt a surge of jealousy. He quickly curbed it because, one, Kurt was gay. And two, Brittany? Not in a million years. Puck pointedly didn't look at Kurt straight on, rather he watched out of the corner of his eye. So, he nearly missed it when Kurt and Brittany stood and quietly left the room.

As they tugged the door closed behind them, a hollow feeling settled in the pit of Puck's stomach.

Sarah had kept her ears open to rescue Puck. So, when she heard Puck's door open and then close, she was on it like white on rice. When she threw her door open, she was surprised to see Barnacle and the Princess. She gave a smirk when the older two jumped and stared at her with wide eyes.

"Hi," she drawled. "I'm Sarah."

Barnacle immediately beamed a thousand watt smile and bounced over with her hand outstretched. "Hi, Sarah! I'm Brittany, and this is Kurt."

Kurt forced a polite smile on his face as he nodded a greeting. "Very nice to meet you. Britt, we need to go."

"Where are you going?" Sarah asked, not turning loose of Brittany's hand.

"We have a plan for—"

"That's kind of personal, Sarah." Kurt cut Brittany off. She didn't look as though she minded. She stood, still trapped by Sarah's hand and a vapid smile on her face.

"Does it have to do with my brother?" Sarah asked bluntly.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Kurt grabbed Brittany's other hand and, for a moment, Kurt and Sarah played tug-of-war with Brittany's arms.

"I think I should know, then," Sarah said lazily, but tightened her grip.

"Well, I think you shouldn't," Kurt returned, giving a quick tug on Brittany's hand.

"And why is that, Kurt?" 

Tug.

"Because it's a private matter, and quite frankly, I don't think Puck would appreciate you poking your nose in it." 

Tug.

"Not too private. The whole school seems to know."

Tug.

"Know what, exactly?"

Tug.

"That my brother lost his ass cherry on video so he could make it 'good for you' if you ever gave him a chance to bang you."

One last tug, then she turned loose of Brittany's hand. Kurt, too, let Brittany's hand fall as he stared wide-eyed at Sarah. 

"Uh, he told you?" Kurt choked out.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "No, Cinderelly, he didn't tell me. I'm pretty sure he'd rather have cut off his own balls than have me find out. However, my ex-best friend thought it'd be funny to show me my brother's acting debut."

Brittany blinked slowly. "Kurt, why did she call you Cinderelly?"

Sarah snorted and Kurt sighed. "No reason, Britt. Hey! Why don't you go start the car?" he said brightly, holding out the key. "Don't drive anywhere, but you can pick out a song to listen to on the way back."

Brittany squealed and snatched the keys from Kurt's hand. She waved gaily at Sarah and skipped down the hall. Kurt sighed again and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"It's kind of terrifying that she knows how to operate an mp3, but the toaster confuses her." Sarah felt a giggle escape her before she could do anything about it. Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Does Noah know you've seen it?"

Sarah tilted her head, the light catching her just so and emphasizing the darkening bruise on her cheek. "He knows. And he knows I'm on his side, no matter what."

Kurt's lips curled up in a small but warm smile. "Good to know."

"You know what else would be good to know?" Sarah asked sweetly. "What did you get out of that video?"

Kurt blushed. "What do you m—"

"Can the bullshit, Cinderelly." Sarah's gaze hardened. "I know you, okay? I may be middle school, but everyone knows Kurt Hummel. I've been watching my brother throw you into the dumpster since I was 10. I know what he's done to you. I want to know how much you'll forgive."

She crossed her arms. "He really likes you. I think it's pretty obvious just how far he's willing to go in order to get you."

"Really?" Kurt drew himself up. "Because what I saw clearly indicated that he was never planning on mentioning it to me." He mirrored her cross-armed stance. "Your brother is a first class, grade A asshole. He's been an utter bastard to me since day one. So, where do you get off trying to guilt me into dating him?"

They each stepped nearer to the other until they were barely a hand's width apart, glaring at one another. Kurt's nostrils flared as he sucked in air. Sarah's jaw twitched where she clenched it. They stood, gazes locked in anger for long seconds. 

"So, would you?" Sarah finally asked.

"Would I what?" Kurt replied, warily.

"Would you go out with my brother if he asked you?" Kurt pursed his lips and drew back from her. He ran a hand carefully over his hair and looked down his nose at her.

"Well, you'll just have to wait until he asks me, won't you?"

Sarah grinned. "That's a yes," she crowed. Kurt leveled a final glare and turned on his heel.

"I find your attempt to pimp out your brother to be crass and tacky," he snapped over his shoulder. 

Sarah smiled at his back. "See you later, Cinderelly," she called. Kurt hmph'd and turned the corner out of sight. Sara snorted and stepped back in to her room. "Diva bitch," she muttered fondly.


	4. Floor (aka Four Tequila)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School, more school, revenge and then fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should cut this into more chapters. The others were approx 2500 words and this bitch is 9200. However, the rhyme is "One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor", and I am way too retentive and OCD to bugger that up. So. It's long. And over. Really.

When Puck's alarm went off the next morning, he had already been awake for hours. He climbed out of bed and, like an automaton, did his morning rituals one by one until there was nothing to do but sit and wait. 

He'd almost convinced himself that no one would bother looking for him if he hid in his closet the rest of his life—and really, it provided a certain amount of irony—but Sarah was a force of nature with impeccable timing. 

She breezed into his room right as his legs tensed to push up off the bed. She dropped onto the bed next to him with a raised eyebrow. "You ready for school?" she asked, popping a piece of gum in her mouth. Puck called her single eyebrow and raised her a second one. She snorted and rolled onto her back.

"So, what's your game plan, Puckerman? You going for the badass, 'hey, you lookin' at me?' or you gonna go with avoidance, 'please, sir, may I have another?'"

"First, this isn't a mob movie, and your English accent sucks." Puck smirked.

"Bite me," she replied, giving her gum a snap.

"And second, I'd kinda hoped you'd taken time out of your plans for world domination to build me a time machine. Or maybe an invisibility ray."

"Bite me times two." She grinned and punched the arm closest to her. "Just stick close to Finn and the others," Sarah advised.

"Are you going to pack me an extra diaper and some formula?" Puck sniped. Sarah just punched him again.

"Just call me if you need to, okay Noah?" He rolled his eyes.

"So I'm supposed to hide in a bathroom stall, crouched on a toilet so I can call my baby sister for a pep talk?" He tried laughing it off, but Sarah's eyes were unwaveringly serious. Puck sighed. "Keep it on vibrate. Mrs. Hatch will shit bricks if she hears Gwar lyrics busting out of your ass."

Sara leaned in, pulling his face into her neck. He stayed in the safety of her arms until the doorbell pealed out. "Finn's here," she whispered.

"I know," he replied, his voice muffled by her shirt. They sat for another moment, and then Sarah placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head. He pushed up, sniffing hard. "You're gonna make a great mom one day, Sarah," he mumbled.

"Feh!" Sarah scrunched up her nose and waved him off with a hand. "They won't appreciate me. It’s a mother's lot in life, I suppose." She sighed extravagantly, and Puck snorted.

"You keep forgetting that mom does the eyeroll," he offered, and ducked out the door to avoid the pillow thrown at him. He was still chuckling when he hit the kitchen. Finn looked up guiltily from his place by the stove, a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth. Puck smirked and stepped up to snag a couple of pieces of bacon, as well. He moved deftly away as his mom swatted at him with the spatula. 

"It's bad enough I'm about to serve a meal that isn't Kosher," she griped. "Don't you both start snacking before we get prayers in."

"Sorry, Ma." Puck kissed the side of her head. "We gotta get to school early today."

Mrs. Puckerman stared wide-eyed at Puck as he stuffed the bacon in his mouth and headed out the door. Finn paused a moment, smiled uncomfortably, and bolted after Puck. Mrs. Puckerman slowly raised her hand, cupping it around the spot where her son had kissed her for the first time in ten years.

Her daughter clattered down the hall, and she let her hand drop. "I don't suppose you have time for breakfast, either?" She waved the spatula. 

Sarah grinned. "It's bacon. You _know_ I have time for bacon."

Mrs. Puckerman heaved a long-suffering sigh and set a plate down in front of Sarah. "Ah!" she chastised as Sarah reached for her fork. Sarah rolled her eyes, but obediently closed them and said a prayer. Then, she grabbed her fork and began shoveling the food into her mouth.

"Sarah—" Mrs. Puckerman began. 

Sarah held up her fork. "I got it, Ma," she said gently. "He'll call me if he needs to."

Mrs. Puckerman nodded and sat down, wringing her hands together. "He doesn't—"

"He does, Ma."

"But Finn was so angry about the baby," Mrs. Puckerman whispered, staring at the empty doorway her son had walked through.

"Ma, you saw them all here yesterday," Sarah reminded her. "Sometimes, the only thing that can bury something big is something bigger."

Mrs. Puckerman nodded reluctantly. "You always know the right thing to say, Sarah." Her mother smiled. Sarah pointed her fork at her mother. 

"I get that from you," she returned.

"Well, I certainly didn't know what to say this time." Her smile turned a little bitter.

"Ma, what do you think you're supposed to say?" Sarah flung her forkless hand into the air. "He still hasn't mentioned the baby, and _that_ was with a _girl_."

"I know." Mrs. Puckerman's hands fluttered in her lap. "I just want him to know I'm here for him." Her eyes filled with tears. "I want him to be able to come to me."

Sarah tossed her fork onto her plate and took her mother's hands in hers. "Mama, this isn't exactly the kind of thing good Jewish boys tell their mothers."

Mrs. Puckerman snatched back a hand to wipe her eyes angrily. "Just their little sisters?" Sarah raised an eyebrow and Mrs. Puckerman blushed. "No. I know. That isn't fair. We agreed that you would take this one, and I'd take the baby confession."

Sarah squeezed her mother's hand and grinned. "You'll like Kurt." She changed the subject.

Mrs. Puckerman's mouth curved up a bit. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. He's a complete bitch!" 

Mrs. Puckerman let out a small chuckle. "Between the three of us, we'll…how do you kids today say it? We'll have his back? Whether he knows it or not."

"Some of us more than others," Sarah returned cheekily. 

Mrs. Puckerman feigned disapproval and then smacked Sarah's arm gently. "Go on. Get out of here." She nodded toward the door. Sarah leaned forward and kissed her mom on the forehead before grabbing her bag and racing for the door. "Don't punch anyone else in the face, young lady," Mrs. Puckerman called after her.

"I make no promises," came floating back. Mrs. Puckerman sat back in her chair and sighed. What was a mother to do?  
______________________________________________

Finn parked the car and sat, waiting for Puck to make the first move. Puck, however, didn't move a muscle. Finn sighed. "You gotta do it, man."

Puck nodded, absently watching a freshman try to get out of the car without kissing his mother goodbye. "Why are you here, Finn?" he asked quietly.

Finn gave his infamous 'heh heh', and shrugged. "You needed a ride; I was going this direction."

"That's not what I mean."

"I know what you mean, man." They both fell silent. Freshman guy failed miserably as his mom planted not one, but two kisses on him.

"I fucked up your life, dude."

"You had sex with my girlfriend and got her pregnant," Finn corrected.

Puck turned his head to look out the passenger window. "Yeah, that," he whispered to his reflection.

Finn was silent, watching Puck pointedly not meet his gaze. He sighed and shook his head. "Quinn wasn't 'my life'. She was my girlfriend. And apparently not a very good one because she lied to me and cheated on me with the one person she knew would hurt me the most."

Puck flinched. 

"I'm not saying I forgive you, and I'm not saying it was okay to do what you did. But, Quinn knew what was going to happen before the first drink of that wine cooler. She knew what she was doing. You both had a choice, and you both kinda fucked it up."

The muscle in Puck's jaw jumped. "You're like my brother, Puck. People in families fight, or so I've been told," he added, wryly. That brought Puck's head up, and he swung his eyes to meet Finn's. "They fight, and then they get over it. Cause they're family."

"So, you're over it?" Puck asked, skeptically.

Finn shrugged. "Not all of it, no. But enough that when my brother is in trouble, I'm gonna be there for him."

Puck swallowed heavily. "I don't deserve it. You. Anybody."

Finn grinned and punched Puck's arm. "Good thing we're not asking you, then, huh?" 

Puck managed a small smile in return and rubbed his abused arm. "Did you and Sarah get together and decide which arm to punch me in today?" Finn took the subject change for what it was, a fragile acceptance.

"Aw, did you let the middle school girl beat you up?" he said, teasingly. 

"She's pretty badass," Puck admitted as he opened the door. "She punched someone in the face."

Finn followed suit, walking side by side as they approached the building. "You sound like you're proud of that."

Puck glanced over at him, his smile the largest Finn had seen in the last couple of days. "Hell yeah!"

Finn grinned back. "Yeah, well. That _is_ kinda badass." Puck almost felt normal again, heading to school joking around with Finn at his side; but then, someone spotted them.

"Hey! Puckerman, I'd ask how's it hanging, but I think everyone already knows!"

Puck took a deep breath and tried to ignore the volley of insults, slurs and abuse that followed. The worst part of the walk of shame into the school was knowing he'd been on the other side once upon a time. 

He remembered waiting by the steps for the first unsuspecting victim of the day, too often it was one of the few people he could call a friend now. He had no idea how they did it; how they were able to talk to him, laugh with him, treat him like one of them and not the bully he had been. He didn't think he could do it. 

Stepping into the school only changed the people who were insulting him, not the insults. A pretty, blonde Cheerio he couldn't name—but remembered the blue flowers on her panties—swished her cheer skirt up at him and then giggled to her fellow Cheerio. "Sorry! I forgot girls' asses don't turn you on anymore."

"At least not your scrawny, pasty ass, Special K." Mercedes stood in front of them, one hand on her hip and the other doing some convoluted snapping thing at Blue Flowers. Tina and, oddly enough, Quinn flanked her. Both looked as pissed off as Mercedes. 

There was enough prey ganging up on them, that the two Cheerios tucked tail and slunk down the hall, looking angrily over their shoulders. Mercedes didn't waste her ferocity on just the two cheerleaders; she turned it on the rest of the student. To anyone who sneered at her and Puck, or muttered 'fag' under their breath, she amped up to her best diva glare and stared them down.

They didn't change their opinions, but at least they moved on to express them elsewhere. Satisfied, Mercedes turned to the other two girls. "And that is how you do it, girlfriend." She grinned and fist-bumped with both girls. 

As their arms rose, Puck noticed something new. Each of them wore the same wristband. It almost looked like those WWJD bracelets he'd seen on some of the girls in the Celibacy Club. These, however, were striped with rainbow colors and didn't have anything stamped on them. 

He pointed with his chin. "What're those?" he asked. The girls held their hands out as if they were displaying diamonds. They certainly were smiling enough for it.

"You like?" Mercedes twisted her hand back and forth.

"I have no idea how they did it so fast, but Britt and Kurt special ordered them." Quinn marveled at hers, and Puck shot a glance at Finn.

"Okay," he said carefully. "But, what are they?"

"Th-they're rainbow b-bracelets," Tina offered.

"Rainbow as in LGBT," Quinn added at the still confused look on the guys' faces. "Really? Rainbows? Gay pride? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"Cool!" Finn bounced. "Can I have one?"

Puck looked at Finn, bewildered. "Dude. You're not gay."

Finn looked crestfallen. "Oh."

Quinn reached over to smack Puck on the arm. "Neither are we, dumbass. They're to show support for you and the other gay kids at McKinley."

Puck frowned, rubbing his arm "Okay. And ow!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and dug into the huge bag handing off of her shoulder. She triumphantly pulled out two more bracelets and handed one to each guy. Finn grinned and eagerly put his on. Puck moved more slowly. "They get one for everyone in Glee?"

Mercedes snorted. "Have you ever known my boy to go small when he could go big? They got boxes of them."

"They're both in front of the music room, handing them out," Quinn said excitedly.

Puck's eyes grew wide. "You left _Kurt_ and _Brittany_ alone and passing out something that could get the shit kicked out of them?" He made to move past the girls, but Mercedes' hand held him in place.

"You may be new to the other side of bullying, sweetcheeks, but I can assure you: _we_ are not." 

Puck flushed and nodded guiltily. "Sorry," he said.

She waved him off. "Mike and Matt are pulling bodyguard duty. Kurt and Brittany are just fine."

"Where's Rachel?" Finn asked, craning his neck to look down the hall.

Quinn snorted delicately. "Rachel _and_ Artie are on clean-up supply duty."

Puck frowned. "What's that?"

"Look, hot stuff," Mercedes patted Puck's arm. "We're here for you and we'll do the best we can. But, I can guarantee you that you'll be changing at least once today, and probably needing a first aid kit."

Finn and Puck looked slightly horrified. "You guys have needed…" Finn trailed off.

"It's okay," Tina said softly. "It's d-different now. Not so b-bad."

"Whatever." Mercedes cut the uncomfortable topic off. "We're ready, is all I'm saying."

Puck nodded and tried to steel himself against what he suspected would be the worst day in his life…at least since yesterday.  
__________________________________________________

He'd never felt so much like an asshole as he did sitting backwards in a chair in the least used girls' bathroom in the school. He squeezed his eyes shut as directed and leaned back against the sink while Kurt Hummel, of all people, gently shampooed away the residue of Puck's fourth slush facial that morning.

Between that and the trips to the dumpster between 2nd and 3rd period and again between 4th and lunch, Puck had run out of clothes to change into. As a matter of fact, as he sat here with Kurt's fingers combing through his Mohawk, Rachel was at the next sink washing out his shirt again.

She finished the final rinse and draped it over another chair under the hand dryers. She directed all the nozzles toward it. Puck thought it might surprise someone that, with all three dryers, a careful eye and proper rotation, a t-shirt could dry in less than ten minutes.

He hated that he knew that. Then he hated that he hadn't known that until today. When Kurt and Rachel began casually debating which flavor was the hardest to remove, he felt sick to his stomach.

Kurt pulled gently on Puck's head, and Puck raised it up from the sink. Immediately, a fluffy towel engulfed his head, and Kurt scrubbed briskly. He winced as Kurt scrubbed over the goose egg on the top of his head. He'd had a run in earlier with a few particularly homophobic members of the baseball team.

They hadn't bothered with slushes or even insults. They went right for a punch to the solar plexus and a push down the stairs outside the gym. That, at least, hadn't required a change of clothes. However, Mercedes hadn't been wrong about the first aid kit. 

At his flinch, Kurt yanked the towel off his head. "Puck? Are you okay? I'm so sorry." Kurt's concerned face hovered directly in front of him as he inspected Puck's scalp. Puck breathed in deeply, inhaling Kurt's scent. 

"How do you do it?" Puck whispered. "How do you get up in the morning knowing this is all you have waiting for you?" Kurt shot an unreadable look to Rachel.

Kurt shook his head. "It's not _all_ that's waiting." 

"No?" Puck laughed without humor. "How can you pick yourself up after getting slapped down every single day?"

Kurt shrugged and let his hands fall away from Puck's scalp. "You just get used to it."

"Really?" Puck asked, a pained note in his voice. "Compared to what happens to you _every_ day, fuck, compared to what I've done to you myself on an average day…This shit that's happened to me is nothing!" Kurt leaned back against the sink; Rachel rotated Puck's shirt again. 

Puck turned to address both of them. "It's not even noon yet, and I want to find a hole to hide in. I can't concentrate on the teachers. I spent all of 3rd period History planning an escape route if they were waiting for me after PE." He gestured to his head. "Obviously, that didn't work out."

"You moved too early," Kurt pointed out softly. "Coach Tanaka is always three minutes late from break, because he stops to use the bathroom. If you wait, you can duck in behind him and make it to the gym mostly unscathed."

"Wh…How…You…" Puck watched Kurt with a pained expression. "I fucking hate that you know that," he whispered. He rubbed his hand over his face. "How do you keep from killing yourself?" He barked out a desperate laugh.

Kurt's eyes slid over to meet Rachel's, and they both shifted uncomfortably. "No," Puck breathed, his eyes darting between them. "Fucking please, no."

Rachel stepped forward. "Puck." She smiled kindly. "You just put that ugly thought out of your mind. We're here for you." Kurt nodded emphatically. Puck looked from one to the other, reading far too much from their weak smiles and averted eyes. 

"Who was there for you?" Silence was his answer. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against his knees. "I am such a fucking asshole." 

He felt hesitant fingers on the nape of his neck and the heat of a body as it moved closer. Pushed almost beyond his limits to cope, Puck blindly reached out. He wrapped his arms around slim hips and buried his face into a trim stomach. 

The hesitant fingers grew bolder, running from the tip of his head to the bottom of his neck, carefully skimming over the knot. Kurt's other hand snuck around to cup the side of Puck's head, tentatively holding it closer to his stomach.

Puck felt hot tears rush to his eyes, and he desperately squeezed them shut. He knew Kurt could feel them as they slipped traitorously past, wetting the material under Puck's face. The dryers went off, and Puck heard Rachel puttering around a moment, then the bathroom door opened and shut again. 

"Puck?" Kurt said his name uncertainly. Puck tried to reply, but the words caught in his throat, choking him. Something in Puck's heart died a little when Kurt moved his hands to Puck's arms, prying them apart. Puck let his arms fall limply away from Kurt's waist, obediently freeing him. He waited to hear Kurt's footsteps move to the door. Or for Kurt to verbally eviscerate him for taking liberties. 

Kurt, however, had other ideas. He placed a hand on Puck's shoulder and gently pushed him upright. As Puck leaned back, Kurt moved in. He slid in under Puck's arm and took a seat on his lap. A moment or two of wiggling adjustment, and he reached for Puck's arms again. 

Kurt pulled them completely around his waist, pushing them against his body and silently indicating that they stay where he placed them. He tugged Puck's head onto his shoulder and nestled Puck's face against his neck. He then wrapped his own arms around Puck's shoulders and squeezed.

Puck held Kurt awkwardly. As the pressure from Kurt's arms increased, though, so did Puck's confidence. He followed suit and crushed Kurt's body against his own. The thought crossed his mind that he might be hurting Kurt, but before he could force his grip to loosen, Kurt laid his head on top of Puck's and began to soothingly rock them.

He had no idea how long they sat together. He heard the door open several times; felt Kurt shake his head at some silent inquiry; even heard the bell ring once or twice. Still, Kurt held him. 

His tears had long since dried; his breathing returned to normal; he felt a crick in his neck begin. Still, Kurt held him.

Puck wanted so badly to edge his face up the tiniest bit and press his lips against the tantalizing skin where Kurt's pulse beat against cheek. He breathed in deeply, mentally sorting out what was laundry soap or facial moisturizers and what was purely Kurt. When he exhaled, he felt Kurt shudder at the burst of warm breath over his skin.

Regretfully, he loosened his arms. Kurt, here and willing to hold him, was one thing; compelling his attention with pity or even sex was quite another. His whole body ached with loss as Kurt slowly loosened his own arms and slid off of Puck's lap.

The faucet came on again, and a moment later, Kurt pushed a damp cloth into Puck's hand. Gratefully, Puck ran the cool cloth over his swollen eyes and dry lips. When he'd scraped together the will to lift his head, Kurt was meticulously wiping off various bottles and tucking them away in an oversized make-up bag.

Puck spotted his shirt lying on the counter and quickly snagged it. He drug it over his head and spent far too long tugging it into place, avoiding looking at Kurt as he did so.

"Are you ready to face this afternoon?" Kurt asked quietly.

Puck gave a humorless smile. "Sure. Bring it on."

The rest of the day wasn't quite as bad. He actually attended his math class, for once. Not surprisingly, there weren't nearly as many douche jocks in math as there were in PE. Those that were drew little attention to themselves. The nerds, geeks and losers held court within these four walls, and everybody knew it.

Spanish class was with Mr. Shue, and everyone knew better than to fuck with a Gleek in Shue's room. Shue could obviously tell that something was going on. He shot concerned looks Puck's direction all period. Puck didn't linger when the bell rang. He had no idea how to explain.

Last class of the day was Chemistry. Again, geeks ruled, perhaps more so than in math. In the distant past, those who understood Alchemy were considered magicians. Just because jocks knew that chemical processes occurred, didn't lessen the almost magical concoctions and reactions their nerdier counterparts created.

After school, Puck stuck to safety in numbers. He stayed in the middle of the geek herd through the hallways, back to his locker. Finn and Mike met him there, glaring at the circling jocks. It wasn't long before half of Glee ended up at his locker, and the vultures went to look for easier prey.

Glee practice was a safe haven. Puck made sure not to be alone at any point in order to avoid Shue's continued concern; other than that, it was the perfect ending to an otherwise hellish day. Puck still felt a little weird around Kurt; embarrassed not only for dragging Kurt's name into this video mess, but also for the crying jag.

On the way out the door, Kurt mentioned an appointment the next day. Mercedes frowned, and then they had some kind of silent conversation with odd expressions. Confusingly, it ended with Mercedes sending a searching look in Puck's direction.

Finn shoulder bumped him before he could find out what that was all about, and he walked to Finn's car in worried uncertainty. Had he disturbed Kurt so badly today that skipping school was the answer?

When Finn pulled up into Puck's drive, Puck smiled gratefully. "Thanks, man. For everything today."

Finn grinned. "No problem. Pick you up tomorrow?"

Puck nodded gratefully. "That'd be great. I'll try to remember to pack every change of clothing that I own," he added wryly. 

Finn winced. "Sucks, but it's probably a good idea. Hey, call you later?"

"Sure. Gimme til about seven so I can get through dinner and the Spanish Inquisition Sarah's probably planning."

Finn's brow wrinkled. "Spanish Inquisition? Like Spanish class?"

Puck just smiled fondly at the big doofus who'd he'd nearly lost. Thank God Finn was a better man than he was. 

"Something like that, bro."  
___________________________________________

Kurt turned the key off and stared at the building. Parkson High School, Home of the Bears. Clearly a more upscale school than McKinley, Kurt might have been comfortable attending, had he not already seen its seedy underbelly. 

The bell rang and Kurt glanced at his watch. Lunchtime, most likely. A moment later, the students of Parkson High began pouring out of the doors more like locusts than Bears. Kurt took a cleansing breath, and got out of his SUV.

He eyed the cliques forming and gravitated toward what appeared to be the geeks. When they warily watched him approach, closing ranks for protection, Kurt knew he'd found what he'd been looking for.

"Good afternoon." He smiled pleasantly. "My name is Kurt Hummel. I'm looking for a certain student. Could you perhaps direct me to him?"

A girl stepped forward and eyed him from head to foot. She cocked her head and crossed her arms; she reminded Kurt of Mercedes. "That depends. Who are you looking for?"

"I don't know his last name," Kurt began, apologetically. "But his first name is Brett. He's got san—"

"We know him," the girl cut him off, a pinched look on her face. "Everyone knows Brett Forsythe." Her gaze narrowed. "The question is: what's a guy like you doing looking for an asshole like him?"

Kurt's smile turned predatory. This, he could work with.  
__________________________________________

The Ohio State University had been something Kurt took for granted. It was right in his backyard, yes; but since he planned on getting the hell out of town after graduation, he'd never really acknowledged it. Not until it came to his attention that one Brett Forsythe, aged 21 and a junior at OSU, had quite the reputation there.

Puck apparently hadn't been the first unwilling actor in one of Brett's little videos. He'd just been the first from McKinley. Brett had begun his illustrious career in his junior year of high school. Kurt had never before had a kind thought for the jocks of McKinley, but considering what they could have been doing, slushes and dumpster diving were almost appreciated.

As he approached the door of the Delta Tau Delta fraternity, his hands started to shake. He paused and sucked in a deep breath. Then, he wished he hadn't. The stank smell of sweaty bodies, fermented alcohol and vomit seemed to hover in a cloud around the front porch. He blinked rapidly as he rang the doorbell.

The door opened with a blast of sound and the additional smell of pot and incense. Kurt hoped his eyes weren't watering. The young man at the door peered out at him, then walked away leaving the door open. Kurt wasn't quite sure what he found so off-putting about Kurt. Whatever it was couldn't be more unappealing than the Mickey Mouse boxer shorts the other boy was wearing.

Having apparently been given an 'entre vous', version: drunk, Kurt stepped in and shut the door behind him. The mass of underwear-clad men might have stirred something in Kurt's soul, or at least his pants, but the drooling, staggering and belching outweighed the hotness factor.

As he searched the crowd for someone a bit less drunk or stoned than most, someone found him. Kurt's arm was grabbed and Kurt was hauled backwards into a potted plant. Before Kurt could start to struggle, a blond idiot nose-dived into the floor right where Kurt had been standing. He watched wide-eyed as the idiot bounced back up and staggered into the swarm of sweaty bodies.

"Hi." Kurt jumped at the voice next to his ear. He turned his head to see a guy not too much older than Kurt. "What are you doing here?" the boy asked. "You're obviously not a Delt." Actually, the boy didn't really look like one either. He wore a Delta Tau Delta tee and a baggy pair of sweats, but he wasn't built like a brick shithouse, nor did he stink like one.

"I'm here looking for someone," Kurt said, smiling politely. "Brett Forsythe?"

The boy smirked. "Angry brother or pissed off lover?"

Kurt frowned. "I take it this is commonplace?"

"For a cute guy to come looking for Brett?" The boy shook his head. "Not really. He usually finds them. And once he's done with them, they go out of their way to make sure he never finds them again."

Kurt smiled grimly. "I imagine that tends to be the response when your naked ass is forwarded to everyone who knows you."

"Ah. The vid scenario." The boy shrugged. "I think he enjoys that one way too much." He ducked a flying body and grinned. "Come with me." He weaved through bodies like an eel, and Kurt was hard-pressed to keep up. 

Finally, they came to a stop in a kitchen area. Kurt noted that, whereas there was little real food visible, the beer cans and chip bags were plentiful. The lessening of noise was a relief, though his ears had already developed a ring just from the short time in the other room.

"So, is that what you're here for? Brett did a vid of you?" the boy asked, leaning up against a counter. "

"No," Kurt replied, distastefully kicking at a Doritos bag. "Not quite." Having pushed the nasty thing away, Kurt straightened his shirt and held out his hand. "Kurt Hummel.

The boy smirked again as he shook hands. "Brian Hale. So, Kurt Hummel…brother or lover?"

"Neither. Just a friend." 

Brian examined Kurt closely."Just a friend, huh?" Kurt flushed and Brian grinned. "Okay." He held his hands up non-threateningly. "So, why do you want Brett?" he asked. "You don't look like you've got an ass-kicking in store for him."

"Really, I just wanted to see him," Kurt replied. "I want to ask why he did it. Maybe get him to take it down."

Brian laughed. "I can answer that for you. He did it because he could. Because he's a complete fucktard. And there's no way in hell he's taking it down. You're wasting your time, little buddy. And, to be frank, you're risking your own rather cute ass doing it." He gave Kurt an approving once over.

Kurt tilted his head. "So, you don't like him?"

Brian grinned, shaking his head. "Nobody likes him. But he's the Dean's nephew and every adult on this planet thinks holy water shoots out of his ass. No one here's gonna step in, no matter how fucked up his shit is."

"What if there's someone who isn't afraid of him? Who doesn't care what the Dean thinks?" Kurt asked, thoughtfully. 

"If you can find that guy, more power to you," Brian shrugged.

"What if I am that guy?" Kurt smiled sweetly.

Brian paused and looked interested. "Really? What do you have in mind?" 

Kurt stepped up and linked arms with him. "Brian, tell me…do you happen to own a video camera?"  
______________________________________________

Kurt's first in-person glimpse of Brett Forsythe left much to be desired. The guy was handsome enough, but there was something about him that screamed snake-oil salesman. He sat on the arm of a couch, clad much like the rest of the frat brothers. He held a beer can in his left hand and leaned over another guy, trailing a finger of his right hand down the guy's chest.

"Brett Forsythe?" Kurt called, raising his voice to be heard above the music. Brett's head popped up quickly, and he narrowed his eyes when he spotted Kurt.

"Yeah?" He pushed up off of the couch arm. He held out his hand. "And you would be?"

Kurt took his hand, stroking rather than squeezing, and blushed. "Wow." Kurt smiled shyly. "You're a lot bigger than I expected you to be. I'm Kurt."

Brett's gaze grew sharper; right then, Kurt knew he wasn't actually drinking from the beer he held. It was a prop. "Kurt, eh? Well, Kurt…how big did you expect me to be?" He moved in a step closer, barely bumping chests, and Kurt giggled.

"I thought you were more Puck's size. You're…really well put together, aren't you?" He kept his eyes trained on Brett's bare chest and idly thought a nipple ring could vastly improve the area. Because he was watching so carefully, he saw the twitch of chest muscle as Brett gestured. A moment later, the music was down to background level.

Kurt felt a twinge of panic, now that they were apparently the main show, but he tried not to let that show on his face. Years of not showing fear to assholes like this actually paid off. He watched the other frat boys out of the corner of his eyes and realized that they were so wasted, they probably hadn't realized the music was even on, much less that it had been turned down.

"Puck…that name's familiar." Brett squinted one eye, and then opened both of them widely. "Oh! Puck was that mohawked douche from Dante's party." He took a small step back and frowned. "Kurt…Kurt was the name of that kid he wanted to bang, wasn't it?"

Kurt stepped forward, closing the space between them once more. "Well, I'd rather not be considered a 'kid', but yes. That's me." He moved his eyes up from Brett's chest to his lips. "Is that a problem for you…Brett?"

As he spoke, he stretched up on his toes a bit, putting his face right at the hollow of Brett's throat. He exhaled on Brett's name and couldn't help the smirk that crossed his lips when Brett's arms pebbled up in goosebumps.

Brett ducked his head and smiled, his teeth a pearly white flash in Kurt's peripheral. "Not a problem," he said. "I _am_ wondering why you're here, though." He used his chest to shove Kurt back a few inches.

Kurt pouted, but obediently stayed where Brett put him. "Well, as you can imagine, the vid you made is getting around. I've gone from being the only gay guy at McKinley to being quite the hot commodity." He smiled and peered up through his lashes. "Indirectly, you got more than just Puck to show some…interest in the other side of the fence."

"Is that so?" Brett slouched a bit, bringing Kurt right back in next to him. 

"Mmhmm," Kurt breathed. "And, given that 99% of the guys at McKinley aren't fit to touch my pants, much less get in them, I thought I'd come straight to the source."

"You came looking for a little action, huh?" Brett grinned.

"Well, after I'm sure that you're what I'm looking for..." Kurt lifted his hand and, carefully not initiating contact, drew a line down Brett's chest.

"What are you looking for, exactly?" Brett thrust his chest forward, forcing Kurt's finger to drag over his pecs.

Kurt eyed the rest of the Bacchanalia. "There seems to be quite the acceptance of…same gender flirting going on. Forgive me, but that _really_ isn't the case in McKinley."

Brett shrugged. "We're young; we're hot; fucking's fucking. Besides, it's college; we're supposed to be experimenting, right?"

"So, I can avoid the gay bashing?" Kurt raised his eyebrows.

Brett snorted. "Long as it doesn't bother me, it doesn't bother them. Right, boys?" He addressed the group of beer-swilling guys playing Guitar Hero next to them. They all responded with such uninterested grunts and vague, 'sure, bro' comments, that Kurt thought that Brett could possibly murder someone in front of them and get the same response. Brett smiled toothily. "See?"

Kurt chuckled and let his hand fall completely onto Brett's chest. "That's good to know. There's one more thing I wanted to know."

"What's that, sugar?" Kurt turned the reflex sneer at the word into a cute, little nose scrunch.

"There was this noise that Puck made, sort of near the end of the vid?" he said huskily. "I wanted to know if you could get me to make that noise, too."

Brett threw his head back and laughed, then jerked Kurt hard into his muscled chest; Kurt ended up nearly straddling Brett's knee. "Oh, yeah, sugar. I can get that noise out of you."

Kurt nuzzled into Brett's neck. "Do you think I could get _you_ to make that noise?"

Brett chuckled, his hands falling to Kurt's buttocks, gripping them and hoisting Kurt further up onto his leg. "I dunno, sug. Takes a lot of skill to get a guy to make a noise like that."

Kurt sighed and wiggled backwards, getting his feet on the floor again. "Well, damn." His lower lip protruded, and Brett brought a hand up to gently flick it. "I guess I'll just have to settle for this noise."

Brett smiled, his brows meeting in confusion. Kurt, however, was anything but confused. He pulled his knee back and, with every single ounce of his 125 pounds, brought it viciously back up into Brett's crotch.

Brett's eyes widened and his mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds before he released an ear-piercing shriek. Kurt stepped back when Brett crumpled to the floor like a broken marionette. Brett sucked in another lungful of air that whistled through his teeth. It gasped out with a high-pitched moan and the sounds of gagging.

Kurt moved out of projectile vomit range, smiling smugly as Brett's gagging turned into actual puking. It seemed poor Brett couldn't decide between whimpering and gagging. Unfortunately, trying both at the same time only resulted in a horrific gargling whine.

Several beer-soaked brothers finally realized that 'a bad thing' was happening, and that Kurt was somehow responsible for it. Two boxer-clad frat-boys stepped up, and each grabbed one of Kurt's arms, jerking him up and dangling him between them. Blessed silence reigned as someone hit the off button on the music, then horrified gasps and muttering took its place.

Kurt, however, couldn't stop grinning as he watched Brett rolling on the floor in his own puke. The over-muscled ape on Kurt's left shook him, causing Kurt's head to flop back and forth. "What the fuck are you laughing at, bitch?" he demanded. "We're gonna kick your ass for that!"

Kurt let himself hang freely, not even fighting. "I'm laughing because I'm 16 and all of you are at least 20."

Ape-boy frowned. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"That means, I'm getting a slap on the wrist and told to stop being so naughty." He grinned up at his captors. "You, on the other hand, are getting charged with assaulting a minor. Wonder what the Dean will have to say about that?" He waggled his brows comically.

Kurt could watch the emotions roll over their faces as though they were in HD. Confusion, followed by a round of denial; up came uncertainty and then, a hunted expression as they looked from Kurt to Brett and back to Kurt.

Ape-boy threw Kurt back onto his feet and his companion shoved Kurt backwards before turning loose as well. "Get the fuck out of here, bitch," Ape-boy growled. 

Kurt caught himself before he went down, and he smirked. "Gladly," he replied. "Brett? I'll tell Puck you said hi!" He turned toward Brian, standing on the sidelines and diligently catching every second on tape. Kurt winked and exaggeratedly whispered, "That's a wrap."  
_________________________________________________

Sarah pushed the laptop closed and grinned at Puck's gobsmacked face. "Wh…how…but…" Puck sputtered. "Why would he do that?" he asked, bewildered.

Sarah sighed. "My God, you are such a moron, Noah. He _likes_ you." She spoke slowly as if to a small child or a particularly stupid dog.

"But…but…"

Sara huffed in frustration and snatched up her laptop. "You are completely hopeless, Noah Puckerman. I have no idea why he likes you." She hopped to her feet and headed to the door. "If I were you, though I'm not," she added, rolling her eyes, "because I'm. Not. A. Dumbass. I'd stop sitting here staring at me like a confused cow, go reward my knight in shining taffeta and get with the fucking, already!"

Puck just blinked at her. She threw her empty hand up. "Hopeless!" And slammed the door behind her.  
_____________________________________________________ 

Perhaps not the best student, Puck was a prodigy in geek 'street savvy'. After two days, he became adept in dodging (slushes), avoidance routes (dumpster diving) and utilizing his surroundings (slushes _and_ dumpster diving—read: hide in the herd or find a teacher to shadow). 

The geek members of the Gleeks were impressed. Artie had taken to calling Puck Grasshopper in the worst Japanese accent Puck had ever heard. If he'd known that something like this would have healed broken friendships and melted away the frigid boundaries between the two halves of Glee, he might have—Yeah. No. He wouldn't have.

His world felt back on its axis now that he had his best friend back. He and Quinn were moving toward what felt disturbingly like his relationship with Sarah. He loved his newfound closeness with Kurt. Yet, he still felt naked and on display sometimes, even with them. 

No one treated him like the dirty slut he secretly deemed himself. There were still moments, though, when he panicked after catching one of them watching him. He could handle the baseball team whistling and catcalling and recreating particular scenes of interest from the video; he couldn't breathe when Kurt turned those thoughtful eyes on him.

Despite his brief forays into the world of tortured heroine, the times he felt safest were when all the Gleeks were together. His favorite time of day had quickly become lunch. He'd given up eating in the cafeteria after the snotball incident (Rachel still gagged when she saw macaroni and cheese), and chose instead to claim a section of the lawn near a retaining wall. Rachel and Kurt were the first to join him, and the rest of Glee eventually gravitated to join them.

"Have you guys seen the news?" Rachel asked, nibbling at her sandwich.

Mercedes laughed. "Honey, unless it's in Entertainment Weekly or GQ," she paused, looking at Matt ogling Brittany's long legs, "or maybe Sports Illustrated, it's highly unlikely we've seen any news."

Rachel frowned thoughtfully. "You have a point. I just wondered if they'd talked to Puck before airing the segment."

When waiting patiently didn't produce results, Artie sighed and asked, "…And? What are you talking about?"

"They arrested Brett Forsythe."

Everyone froze for an instant, then continued eating, trying to ignore the very large elephant now seated with them.

"For what?" Thankfully, Santana recovered quickly.

"I don't know all of it," Rachel said. "I missed part of it because one of my dads was channel chasing. But, I guess there was some kind of felony, and a misdemeanor. Something about filming and distributing child pornography."

The elephant trumpeted loudly. Rachel squirmed under the intense stares. "What? He is 21," she reminded them. "Puck's only 16. That's illegal. And, Puck wasn't the only one, either. When they confiscated Forsythe's computer, he had links to half a dozen other videos of underage kids."

Rachel took a drink and shrugged, bravely soldiering on. "I'm surprised the police haven't come to talk you into pressing charges, Puck. The video charges aside, in Ohio, it's rape to coerce someone who is intoxicated into having sex with you." Puck flinched at the r-word, but shoved more chips into his mouth to keep from having to respond.

"Holy shit," Santana voiced for all of them. Brittany nodded in fierce agreement, though Puck was pretty sure there were at least two words in Rachel's sentence that Brittany didn't get.

Finn whistled. "I bet Forsythe's would rather have just had Kurt just kick him in the balls some more." Kurt immediately turned furious eyes on Finn, pinning him into place like a deer in headlights. "What?" Finn twitched nervously. "Why are you glaring at me, Kurt?"

Quinn grinned wickedly. "You don't really think that no one has shown Puck your revenge video, do you, Kurt?"

Kurt transferred his wrath to Quinn. Unlike Finn, she met his eyes boldly, and the stare off ended with a red faced Kurt suddenly showing great interest in the carrot stick he shoved into his mouth. 

Puck ducked his head, trying not to let Quinn rattle him. "Actually, my little sister showed me yesterday." He frowned. "Then she called me a dumbassed cow or something." Puck's affronted look might have amplified the giggles.

"For what?" Quinn managed.

Now Puck turned red faced and lost his ability to look anyone in the eye. "She said…She told me that Kurt must like me or something, and I should just ask him out, already. She used really dirty language, too," Puck added, trying to move the attention away from his stupid moment of honesty. "I don't know where she's picking that up from."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Right. Living with you, all she learned how to say was Bible verses, I'm sure."

"Shut up," Puck groused.

Quinn huffed loudly. "Missing the big picture here, people! Puck. Are you going to take your sister's advice?"

Puck stared wide-eyed at his friends; they'd gone from a pleasant lunch to Dr. Phil. Everyone's eyes were on him, including Kurt's. Puck had no idea what to say. He wasn't completely sure where he and Kurt stood.

He and Kurt had become pretty good friends. They laughed together; granted it was rarely about the same thing. They'd sing together; rather, Puck would sing and Kurt would critique mercilessly. But Puck had a hard time trying to reconcile what it seemed Kurt was offering now, with what Kurt had offered that day in the restroom.

Puck couldn't forget what it felt like to have Kurt crawl into his lap and wrap him up in his arms. Or what it had meant to him that Kurt just held him while he fell apart. So, backed into a corner and confused, Puck went with the easy out.

"I…I don't know." He saw Kurt wilt; Kurt's gaze dropped to the ground, and he suddenly seemed so much smaller. Puck wanted to hit himself for causing that. As if reading his mind, Quinn hauled off and smacked him in the shoulder.

"God, your sister is right! You are a dumbassed cow." She glared at him.

Feeling trapped had never worked out well for him; nor had any kind of emotional confrontation. Quinn presented him with both. His usual response was to swing, but this was Quinn, the mother of his child. So, he jerked away from her and sneered.

"I am not! Jesus, why is every girl I know such a bitch?" He wanted to wipe the smirk that appeared off of her face, but settled for getting to his feet in preparation to bolt.

"Normally, I'd tell you if you don't like it, head to the other side of the fence," Quinn returned, "but apparently you're too chickenshit to jump over!"

"Fuck you!" Seconds away from smashing his fist into that smug look, Puck viciously threw his bag of chips to the ground. The ones that Puck's grip hadn't crushed flew out, scattering over the grass. Furious not only at Quinn, but at his own inability to voice a single fucking emotion when it counted, Puck spun around and stalked away.

He had no idea where he was going. He couldn't go back into the school. He couldn't linger out in the open alone for too long, or the jocks would pick his destination for him. So, for now, _away_ was as good as any place. 

Behind him, he could hear raised voices, both male and female, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He figured they were consoling Kurt with increasingly nasty comments about Puck, but a moment later, he heard Kurt call his name.

"Noah! Wait up." Puck's head dropped and his feet slowed. Even infuriated beyond belief, he couldn't ignore Kurt. A moment later, Kurt jogged up, and Puck stared at his own feet. 

"Look, man. I'm sorry." Puck offered. "They can't seem to figure out when to shut up."

"Interesting conclusion," Kurt replied. "However, I'd go with the problem being that you haven't learned how to speak up." Puck's gaze shot up to meet Kurt's and he frowned.

"What?"

Kurt gave him one of those sad little smiles that never reached his eyes. "Let me make it easy for you," he said. "I like you, Puck. I like you a lot. I had a Finnesque crush on you for a long time. I thought that was all it was. But then, I saw that video."

"I know. I'm sorry. I know I was completely out of line bringing your name up and I—"

"Stop." Kurt held up a belaying hand. "Don't tell me you're sorry. Just tell me if you were being honest. Were you? Do you really feel we could have something different from the snide remarks and the ear flicking? Or, even more recently, hanging out together and just being good friends? That we could be something together?"

The hopeful look in Kurt's eyes was killing him. "That's what I had wanted," Puck answered softly. 

" _Had_ wanted? As in, not anymore?" As the disappointment began taking over the hope on Kurt's face, Puck broke.

"I didn't mean…Kurt, that video…I…fuck! I completely suck at this." Puck grabbed the sides of his head with his hands. Kurt reached up and gently tugged them back down.

"Take your time, Noah. I can wait."

Puck shook his head. "You shouldn't have to."

"Shouldn't have to what?" Kurt smiled again, this time, with a tiny crinkle at the corner of his eye. "Wait until you're sure how you really feel? If I don't, I'm no better than Brett Forsythe."

Puck frowned. "Don't say that! You're a million times better than that dick."

"So are you, Noah," Kurt said gently. "And I'm willing to wait until you can see that, too." He reached out and lightly touched Puck's shoulder, then turned to walk away.

"Wait! That…that video. How can you get past it? How can you…want to be with me after seeing that? I was…it was…I was disgusting."

Kurt sighed and turned back. "I don't know why you're so hung up on that, Noah. I didn't think you were disgusting at all."

"So, you…you liked it?" Puck asked, hesitantly.

"No, I hated it," Kurt wryly returned. "But not because it was you being gay. I hated it because he lied to you, he used you and he humiliated you. I hated it because that was your first time with a guy, and he ruined it for you. And I hated it a little because it wasn't me." That sad look crept back over Kurt's face.

Puck spat out the first thing that came to mind. "What if it was? What if we…got together like that?"

Kurt shrugged. "I really don't know. I've never done it before either." He smiled. "But I know it would be wonderful. Cause it would be us."

"What if…what if I'm not any good at it?" Puck realized what that sounded like. "Not the sex, the actual…"

"Relationship?" Kurt chuckled. 

"Yeah." Puck nodded. "We're both guys. I…I don't know what to do. Or say. Or how to act. With a guy."

Kurt took another step toward him, putting himself well inside Puck's personal bubble. "Noah, do you like me?" he asked, earnestly.

"Yeah," Puck whispered.

"Do you like me because I have a dick or in spite of it?"

"I don't normally like di—boys at all." Puck answered.

"So, in spite of?"

Puck shrugged slightly. "Yeah, I guess."

"And I like you in spite of the fact that you _are_ a dick." Kurt's smile illuminated his face and drew an answering glimmer from Puck. "So, instead of two guys, how about we just see what Kurt and Noah can be together? We can worry about wooing each other and smooshing body parts later."

"Yeah?" Puck's smile grew bigger.

"Yeah."

"I guess that'd work." Suddenly, Puck felt bashful. "So, how do you feel about holding hands?" He wryly thought that he need only toe a line on the ground, and his epic failure as a macho stud would be complete.

"Noah Puckerman wants to hold hands with a boy?" Kurt feigned shock.

Mentally, Puck drew the line. Physically, he shook his head. Emotionally…finally, Puck felt something release. "No, but I'd like to hold hands with you." 

He watched the wonder spread through Kurt's expression. It was as if a light came on inside of him. Kurt's eyes grew shiny, and he began blinking rapidly. He held his hand out anyway. With a confidence not felt since before this whole shitstorm, Puck took it. 

They stood holding hands and smiling goofily at one another until the distant sound of cheers and catcalls caught their attention. The rest of the Gleeks howled and whistled. Quinn and Mercedes high-fived each other. Finn picked up Rachel and swung her in a circle. He then passed her over to Mike and hauled Brittany in for a hug.

"We have some weird friends." Kurt laughed, squeezing Puck's hand.

"Yeah," Puck agreed, squeezing back. Weird, but very, very good.


End file.
